Déja vu
by Chapo
Summary: 3.17. Cristina is at Joe's. She is coping. Cristina's thoughts. BANG.
1. Chapter 1

Déjà-vu

_« You can survive only if nothing is necessary to you. » Paul Auster_

Let the bubbles burst into your throat. Close the eyes to feel the bitter flow submerge you. Wait impatiently for you thoughts to dissolve. Forget about the world an instant. Invent a present that still has a future. Talk and be sharp as if nothing mattered. As if you were still the same. As if nothing was happening that could deprive you of being happy. As if History didn't make circles.

She left time when she entered Joe's. At least, that's what she had whished for. But time is there, launching assaults on her walls. The Past, the present and this forever changed future .

A few moments ago, she has entered this store, pushed by her survival instinct. Erase the present to buy one elsewhere. Believe that tomorrow may still happen. 99 cents and you buy hope. 99 cents.and you are no longer captive. 99 cents and you go on living. It's not just drawing out cheap junk from their well ordered department. It's not just trying to randomly fill the emptiness that has grown inside her. Every time her hand brushes an object, she hesitates. Each one of them makes spring up a not so harmless question.

How will tomorrow look like ?

And to ask this question to herself is like calling of all her strength the course of time. It's like clinging to its tick-tock, hoping it will carry you away. In her case, the act doesn't matter. What is important is the process.

She is investing into the future.

They aren't just a tiny chair or Sudoku. They are her belief that life goes on. They are her single bond with tomorrow. Without them, the clock would stop. Without them, she would be stuck into this present which used to promise her bright days to come. Into this present which has threwn a veil across the future and reawakened the past. Into this present in which her person has stopped breathing.

So, each of her gestures is a step towards the possibilities that haven't disappeared yet. An attempt to retie the thread which has just been cut. It's an escape ahead, a race towards what was to be. And it's quite ironic when your name is Cristina Yang and that you are used to making backward leaps.

Then, one by one , she grabs the crappy things and introduces them into her life. Into her projects. Into her becoming. Because if she stops thinking that she may need them, that they may be useful, that she may want one day spend time racking her brain on numbers in boxes, she knows she'll be trapped forever into this moment.

Glued.

Bogged down.

Into this moment when the Fates cut the thread. Into this moment when, once again, someone is going to leave her life. Even if that invented future is highly unlikely, it is at least a future. A future to replace the one that has been stolen . She wants to lose herself into the ways which are offered to her.

After all, it's America. And everything is possible there.

A road has been closed but million of them are still within reach.

For 99 cents you buy cakes just in case you feel peckish.

For 99 cents you buy a frame for memories you haven't yet.

For 99 cents you buy days to come.

Already, alcohol has dispersed. Her future has flawn away with it. The present is everywhere which watches for her.

In America for 99 cents, you buy pieces of furniture.

But who would like to own a tiny yellow plastic chair? Certainly not her. Neither yesterday, nor today and there won't be any tomorrow. Because time is suspended. Because the death, lurking around, destroyed any prospect.

She is alone with the present and this past which curiously looks like it. She thinks that it feels like déja-vu. And that's why she couldn't stay. She knows what will happen next. She knows how the impotence slowly consumes you and destroys the life you had anticipated. She has already seen hers stop whereas, in front of her, another's life escaped. She knows that fighting is vain. She knows that it isn't worth holding on tight to faith, whatever you do, the time is the only master. It decides who lives or dies. The hope, the love, the rage have nothing to do with that.

Then she drinks. But alcohol doesn't have the expected effect. Her thoughts are fuzzy but don't fade. Past, present, future entangled. There's only chaos left. She doesn't know anymore where is the beginning, where is the end. So she gives up beer for numbers. It's quality Sudoku. It can help. She tries to give the figures their right place. Their only place. She puts order in what has been muddled up.

Each thing in its place, and a place for each thing. Thus it was supposed to be.

Before Meredith drowns. Before life fails her.

She was going to get married and wanted to tell her person. She had a future in which Meredith was a bridesmaid. A future in which they were delighted.

This future was her choice. Burke was her future.

Cristina Yang knows the power of words. That's why she uses them with parsimony. What is said becomes real. You can't deny it. You can't backstrack. The confidence was supposed to seal their pact.

She was going to get married. She was in love. Meredith had to know it. To tell her was like engraving the promise in the stone. But Meredith will never know. Meredith is going to leave her and change the course of history. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. It is never supposed to happen like this, she knows it and yet she allowed herself to be trapped. She has dreamed, she has anticipated. She has seen a life she liked and she has believed it could be hers. But once again, it was wrested from her grip as if she didn't deserve it.

Déjà-vu.

The bitterness which fills up her throat is no longer from beer. It is the bitterness of a little girl who knows too well destiny's games. It is resignation faced with the repetition of history. Faced with the nonsense of such a fight.

She might as well nip the Hope in the bud since Hope will never grow old. And just try to survive.

When the enemy is stronger than you, what would be the point to face it? It is not cynicism, it is resignation. Cristina Yang hasn't forgotten.

She has been this child who prays with all the enthusiasm and purity of her heart. She too has wanted to believe in the power of hope. The one which moves heaven and earth, which works miracles. But blood has went on running, heat has left the body she was trying to warm up with her words. Her tears and calls of despair have failed preventing life from leaving his body. Love has been unable to keep him at her side. The prayers have been lost in the empty night. Their hands entwined, she couldn't do anything but look at his eyes darkening. Her cries, her threats and even the soft words cut with sobs have been useless. She has called his name with all her might . Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Until her voice dies with him. That did not make any difference. She was still there and he was not.

Despite the love, the tenderness, the need.

Then what is the use of loving? What is the use of being there for them when one doesn't let you have the last word? What is the use of believing that they will never leave you alone? That they will always be there for you as they promised?

It was a long time ago but it is still today.

Déjà-vu.

She might as well make the first move and protect herself. Not look at her own fallibility . To leave before impotence and guilt overwhelms you. Since you can't do anything against it, what is the use of facing death?

Cristina Yang has never prayed again since that day. If God had remained insensitive to a so intense pain, He couldn't exist. Or worse. He didn't care. He hadn't deigned to save them. Or He hadn't been able to.

And she had moved her faith to a more powerful and reliable God. Science. Yes, medicine could have saved him, could have saved them. Because she also lost her life this day. A life full of promises, a life in which he helped her to grow, a life she had never thought could be different.

She would have preferred that everything dies on this road. That this moment, so painful it is, be the last one. A present preferable to the future that was coming. A present when he was still there. A present for eternity.

But time had pursued its race. She was told she still had a future even if she had no idea how to reach it.

Then, she pressed on without really leaving this last moment. She refused to give up this piece of the life which should have been hers. With him at her side.

She remained wedged into this September evening, on a desert road, waiting for an ambulance which won't arrive in time. She built herself out of time. She was nothing but present. No past. No future.

It was easy.

Memories and projects are filled up with people you care for. That's what makes them valuable. If you refuse any tie, your past as your future will remain empty. And that's what she did.

Having classmates, colleagues but no friends. Flirting, chatting up, having sex but never falling in love. During years, she excluded people from her life. No relation, no loyalty, no disappointment.

She had lost her capacity to make plans. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't imagine any future anymore, she couldn't imagine anything anymore. She only belonged to the present in which she was caught.

Her future was nothing but a white page, full of uncertainty. If life was a story, she had nothing left, no plot to unroll. Her only certainty was related to surgery.

She had drawn aside one by one every other characters. She lived from day to day, by herself, for herself, because she was the only one she could ever stand losing. She was her own world. She ruled it. She was the author and the single character.

But it was before Seattle Grace. It was before Meredith. It was before Burke.


	2. Chapter 2

Preston Burke. Preston Xavier Burke. His whole name makes her smile. In fact, lately, he is the only one who makes her smile.

He has also the surprising ability to make her hope. That's what he does everyday.

He is the one who has relearnt her how to trust, how to love.

And right now, she curses him for having brought back in her life what hurts her so much. It's his fault she has lost her edge.

Without Burke, she wouldn't even be there, drinking and rambling. Without Burke, she wouldn't even care.

Burke who hasn't lost his illusions yet.

Burke who is still trying to save Meredith's life.

Burke she has left like she left Meredith today.

She sometimes wishes she would be more like him., she wouldn't have lost her faith. But not today. She prefers to remain far from his optimism.

And as if thoughts had power, he is there. So calm and peaceful. She keeps her look down, pretending she is busy. She has to go on living even if he has come to tell her the worse.

She doesn't want to face him when he will announce her that Meredith is gone.

She doesn't want to get lost in his eyes. She is running away from the seriousness, the concern, the love, they are filled with. His eyes have powers. They can make her walls fall in a blink and she doesn't want to crumble. She is weak. She will break down if he reaches her soul.

There's no change.

He utters the words as if there was a way it would be different. He thinks it's information, to her it's the obvious.

Nevertheless, she is on the verge of crying. Months ago, she wouldn't have. She hates the feelings which have overwhelmed her when he spoke.

Relief. Warmth. Guilt.

They mean she still believes in the possibility that Meredith could live. But she knows better because she believes in Science. Science that is predictable and doesn't disappoint you. And Science has already passed sentence.

Damn Burke ! Once again he has managed to bring her hope.

There's no change but she's still alive.

Hints in his sentence are the reason why she wanted to be alone. She doesn't want to cry, she doesn't want anyone to crush her conviction that future is changing.

Relief suddenly makes place to anger. . Why can't he just leave her alone ? Doesn't he understand she is a lost cause ? She doesn't want to hear this crap they give to families. She doesn't want to hear there is still hope when there isn't. He should understand that there's no need to fight. It's time to forget. It's drinking time.

And here he comes with the « responsability » stuff. She sneers, half annoyed, half amused with his insistence. He is almost as stubborn as she is. He won't give up. Though, he should know better.

She is Cristina Yang. The queen of avoidance. The woman with emotional shortcomings. He had said these words. He definitively should know better.

Is he experiencing memory loss ? Can't he remember she prefers to leave rather than to face issues ?

She hid in the OR instead of telling him she was pregnant. She kept a safety place to fall back when he asked her to move in. And, above all, when he really needed her, when he really needed advice and support, she shut herself away in a dark on-call room.

Déjà-vu.

He should know better but he doesn't.

If he thinks that telling her she was there for him would comfort her, he is wrong.

She is still not looking at him but she can feel his intense gaze piercing through her.

Her stomaches makes a twist as she re-establishes the facts in a breath. One slight difference. One guilty difference.

After.

She was there after she knew he was going to make it.

Burke doesn't utter a word at her statement. He doesn't even blink. He knows what she said is the truth. He has forgiven her. She hasn't. Right now, she's coping with both death and shame.

She can read his look even when she doesn't see it. And his eyes are looking for answers.

He doesn't know that when she acts like that, guilt eats her away. It's not indifference, it's weakness even if her tone denies it.

She has learnt to live with her failures since she can't overcome them.

She isn't proud.

She locks her eyes with his for the first time since he sat beside her. As she realizes, he is simply Burke, not an ennemy, not someone who tries to pressure her, anger vanishes. He is there for her when she can't be with her person. He is Burke and she loves him.

Sorrows overwhelm her as she tries to tell him with no words how much she wishes things were different. How much she feels powerless. How much she feels sad. How much she is beyond help. Just by looking into his dark beautiful compassionate eyes.

She can't go back and watch her. She can't. She can't.

His pager goes off. Maybe for Meredith.

His voice is a cruel kiss on her wounds when he starts to talk again. Sweet and bitter. Soothing and scary. He is asking her for imposssible. He is asking her to face her deepful fears and to look into their eyes. He is asking her to be with her person while it's not too late. He is asking her to say goodbye to her friend.

He smoothly gets up and leaves. He won't pressure her and the hospital needs him.

She lets a sob die in her throat. She can't do that. She can't say goodbye to Meredith.

With Burke, Faith and hope seem to be contagious. She isn't ready for crying yet.

She takes a deep breath and rushes outside.

The poet was wrong. When nothing is necessary to you, you survive but you don't live.

With Burke at her side, she wanted to live, she wanted to fight.


End file.
